


Letters and Songs

by gaemmel



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alphabet and Singalong Collection, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaemmel/pseuds/gaemmel
Summary: All of my entries for the Alphabet Soup/Singalong Challenge will be posted in here! Warnings in the respective chapters.7th chapter: Emil, Lalli, Tuuri and Reynir go explore a haunted house for Halloween.8th chapter: Reynir is out to party and makes some encounters.9th chapter: 18th century Emil drives home in his coach one night, when...





	1. Allt Jag Har

**Author's Note:**

> After about a month of severe writer's block, I am finally able to start this! I will see if I can write more, if I can, I will probably transform this into the whole challenge with multiple chapters, but for now, I'm happy I was able to produce one chapter...  
> So, in this challenge, one attempts to write a oneshot for each letter of the alphabet. Originally, there were no other prompts. By extension of Lazy8, which I copied, it also needs a song that starts with that letter.
> 
> The first song of course needed to be "Allt Jag Har" by Thomas Stenström. After a certain person of the fandom made an AMV with a song of his, his music is forever in my mind attached to Emils and Lallis love. The title means "All I have", btw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Allt Jag Har (Thomas Stenström)  
> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Characters/Relationships: Emil/Lalli  
> Summary: Emil retells a few memories about him and Lalli.  
> Warning: Schmoopy.

Sometimes when I wake up, you are asleep already. Someone else has woken up before me and helped you decontaminate and get into bed. There you are, warm and safe. A good feeling runs through my heart then, seeing you rolled under Tuuri’s cot, alive and healthy. But it still hurts. The thought that someone else stole my chance of being alone with you, it hurts.

The thought that someone, probably Mikkel with his hairy shovels for hands, or maybe even Sigrun with her rough paws, had their hands on your naked body, it bugs me more than I would like to admit. More than I would ever admit to anybody.

I want to give you my attention. If I get up early enough, or if I manage to wake up when you knock on the tank door, I want to take my time with you. I want to massage your shoulders and wash your hair thoroughly, make sure the water has the right temperature. I want to secretly check your body for bruises and scratches. Do you want to know why? Because I revel in the thought of caring for them. Because the thought of you having even the smallest bruise on your arm, on your chest, maybe even on your hip – it upsets me in both good and bad ways. Bad, because I don’t want to you to be hurt, I don’t want you to trip and fall in the woods, I don’t want that perfect, pale, soft skin to be ruined by the tiniest scar. Good, because sometimes, yes, in my dreams, safely tucked away in my heart for quiet moments and nights when I am not tired enough to fall asleep, I think about taking care of them.

I have imagined it so often, it feels like it has already happened; I bathe you, tenderly. Not in a creepy way, I would never stare at your naked body or places I am not supposed to look at, or touch you in ways that would confuse you or make you uncomfortable. I would never do that to you.

I just touch places that are safe, but of the places I can touch, I take good care. I massage your back; I gently rub the dried dirt from your arms. I would love to ask you how you sometimes manage to get your feet dirty, with the boots and all! Do you sometimes take them off? Why? I might never know.

Never mind. I take care of the places you let me care for, show you my love in this very humble and shy way that you will never be able to interpret as anything else. It’s just the team mate you like the best helping you get clean because you are tired and grouchy and having someone to help you makes you get done faster. Nothing else.

But then, while rubbing your chest – I never take long with your chest, it’s too intimate, and it would allow me peeks of things I would never be able to get out my mind again if I stayed too long – I discover a bruise. In my imagination, there is a little bit of blood that I very gently scrub away, and I gasp (I know, I know) and say something like: “Lalli, what happened there?” and I touch the small wound, and you hiss. You probably could actually do that because you wouldn’t want me to touch it, but in my mind, you do it out of pain, because I desperately need justification to make such a drama about it…

And I say something like: “We need to take care of it! Wait right there!” and I run away, storm into the tank, get the medical equipment. In my dream, there is no Mikkel asking me what I want with it, of course. I come back and in my mind, the dream stops here for a moment to admire you. Admire your graceful pose, even with your knees drawn up in a tiny bathtub in the cold outside the tank. Admire your pale skin, flawless except for that bad, bad bruise, of course. Enjoy a good look of your face, because you sit there with your eyes closed for a moment, enjoying a few rays of sunlight on your face. There is actually hardly ever sunlight when you bathe, the sun doesn’t go up that early in winter in Denmark. But in my dream, your face is bathed in the warm sun, and you look beautiful.

I come back with that medical equipment, and then I make a lot of totally unnecessary fuss about that bruise on your chest, cleaning the wound, dressing it. And the whole time I do it, you just hold still and stare at me with those big, soulful eyes I can never get enough of.

Time skip. Once you are finished bathing and dressed again – because you need to be dressed in my mind, if I start to imagine you naked, this will be my end – you give me another long look while I pack away the bath tub and the equipment. And you come over to me and hug me. It’s a perfect hug, we both know exactly where our hands need to be, there is no manly stupid patting on each other’s backs in a “we are such good dude bros” way, just a quiet hug. No moving. No more words. It lasts the perfect amount of time, it’s not too short and elusive, it lasts these exact magic few seconds that say “This is good. Let’s let the world go for a moment. Let’s just be like this”. And when we part, I imagine that there is a hint of a smile on your face.

It hasn’t happened yet, and maybe it never will. But I’m okay like this.

In the evening, when you wake up, I’ll bring you your food. I’m glad I can do that again. If someone else does it, it doesn’t hurt as much as with the bathing, but still. If someone else does it, if Reynir’s shaky fingers hand you your bowl, or if Tuuri passes you one, not even thinking about it, I’m still jealous. They treat it like it’s nothing, it’s a waste! Why would they do it if they don’t cherish it?

I want to give you my time. I want to walk over to where ever you sat yourself, and hand you your bowl carefully, and after I did that, I can sit next to you and eat my food as well. And sitting next to you, maybe even leeching a little bit of your warmth because your backs or our legs touch, makes the food taste a little bit less bland and terrible.

There is one thing that happened that I still sometimes think about. No, not that first night in the train. But I think about that one often, too. If things had gone differently, if I had been different to you that night. If I had… flirted. Forget that. There is no flirting with you. I wouldn’t even know how to.

No, one time we hadn’t been to a water source for two weeks – there was just no clean water left, so we had to ration it strictly until you found us another water source. In result, the food hadn’t been the usual sludge, but dry. Awfully dry. We sat in front of the tank, the other’s around the fire, but the two of us only about two meters away on a log. And you picked at your food with the fork and put something in your mouth – and then you started coughing like hell. I got a fright and slapped you on the back, but it didn’t help, so I ran and dove a mug into our quickly dwindling water backup and ran back to you with it. And this exact moment, as you gulped down the water I brought you, handed me back the cup, suddenly fine again, and said “Thanks” in Swedish and with a grateful little smile that lasted maybe half a second – this is where I get back to. Sometimes. Not too often.

It’s rare to get a smile out of you. But I don’t care. I’d give you anything. All of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Added later)   
> I always forgot that I wanted to explain my personal relationship with each song, so I am adding that now. I discovered Thomas Stenström through an AMV someone in the fandom made, and immediately fell in love with his music. One of the biggest reason for that is: It's Swedish, which I am currently learning, and listening to Swedish music and reading and translating the lyrics helps me learn!   
> I can never listen to Allt Jag Har without thinking about Emil, because it's just the kind of love I think he would feel. Sweet, caring, promising his lover everything.


	2. Baby, it's cold outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I managed a second entry! So I guess I can make this go on. 
> 
> Song: Baby, it's cold outside (I have been always listening to the version by Idina Menzel and Michael Bubblé)  
> Rating: at least Teen and Up for mentiones of sexy stuff  
> Characters/Relationships: Emil/Lalli  
> Tags/Warnings: mention of sexual stuff, schmoopy again.

“Emil?”

“Hm?” Emil answered lazily, rolling his head on one side to look at Lalli.

“It’s time.” Lalli answered, a pair of lively blue eyes staring into a sleepy one.

“Nooo…” Emil gave a small wail, draping his arm tighter around Lalli’s waist where it had been lying before. “Don’t go…”

Lalli sighed. This was not the first time Emil did it. He probably thought it was cute, but Lalli found it increasingly annoying.

“Emil, I really can’t stay. I have to _work_.” Lalli explained, even though he knew there was no use. Emil knew as well as he did why he needed to leave, and that he _was_ going to leave. He just didn’t want to admit it.

“It’s cold outside, and there are evil trolls that could eat you…” Emil pleaded. He wasn’t actually worried (or at least not more than usual, really); he was just buying time.

“And they are going to eat you too if you don’t let me work out a safe path for us.” Lalli said, starting to sit up. Emil’s arm slit off him in the process, but only to drape around his hips. The rest of Emil hadn’t moved from the bed they had both been lying on.

They looked at each other. Even while he was being ridiculous, Lalli couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Emil was. His hair shimmered golden in the quickly fading sunlight, and even though it got tousled by the things they had been up to earlier, it still framed his soft face perfectly. And he was still not wearing a shirt… Lalli quickly adverted his eyes when Emil grinned at him. Staring at Emil for too long, remembering the last hour… it was weakening his resolution to do his job.

He sat up further and slung his legs over the edge of the cot, both movements followed by sad huffs from his lover, who now had to give up his grip on his hips. Lalli shushed him and listened for noises outside. He could hear the typewriter, Reynir somewhere humming a tune … so everything was still safe. Mikkel and Sigrun where still on their book tour, and the other two knew better than to disturb them.

He shoved the blanket off himself completely and quickly rearranged his pants, zipping and buttoning it up again, his back drawn on Emil. Just as he was about to grab his tunic that had fallen to the ground next to the cot, an arm slung around his waist once more and used all his strength to pull him backwards again. Lalli resisted, and so they stayed like that for a second, locked in their pushing and pulling without any forth or back. Then, Emil sighed and relaxed his grip, so Lalli could let up as well.

It was a trap: As soon as Lalli wasn’t putting any more strength into it, Emil yanked at him while sitting himself up as well, so Lalli ended up back to front with Emil, who draped his arms around his waist.

“Beautiful, what’s your hurry…” Emil purred, blowing warm breath into Lalli’s ear. Lalli sighed and repressed the urge to slap Emil. The bastard knew exactly he was sensitive there!

“I have to go.” Lalli repeated sternly, trying not to notice the enticing way Emil’s hand softly stroked his chest. At least he kept away from his nipples, yet.

“But it’s cold outside…” Emil purred on. “And the weather is awful!” the sentence was halfway serious, since it was true. There was a snowstorm coming, the wind was rattling the edges of the tank since this afternoon.

“Doesn’t matter. We need a safe route for tomorrow.” Lalli insisted. He didn’t know why he put up with having this conversation. He was just about to get annoyed at Emil wasting his time again, when said one started to place soft kisses into the nook of his neck. Lalli sighed again and hated himself for it, grumbling. Emil laughed softly, again right into Lalli’s ear.

He felt like he was about to melt. That couldn’t happen! With a yank, he stood up and took another moment to readjust his pants, then picked up his black undershirt and tunic and pulled both over his head. He only turned around when he was about to zip up his jacket. Emil had settled into bed again, the blanket hiding most of his body from view, and had propped up his head on one hand. He was watching Lalli with meaningful looks. They both startled when another gush of wind rattled on the ears of the cat tank.

“You’ll freeze out there…” Emil said, sounding not that playful anymore.

Lalli shrugged. He was used to being outside in the cold, and he didn’t actually freeze most of the time. The pace he set kept him warm.

“Wanna borrow another shirt for underneath?” Emil offered, digging around in his cot for the shirt he slept in. But Lalli shook his head.

“I don’t freeze.” He said.

“Lalli…” Emil said, looking at him again, but with a smile.

“Hm?” Lalli answered while gathering his boots from one corner of the room.

“If you catch pneumonia and die, I’ll never be happy again.” Emil said.

“That is a pretty selfish way to look at it.” Lalli answered, sitting down on the cot next to Emil to pull on his boots. Emil huffed as an answer.

Lalli took up his first boot and dragged it over his foot, pushing his whole strength against the fabric while also pulling it upwards to get in. Emil watched him. When he was about to tie up the laces around it, Emil sat up. “Want me to help?” he said with his sweetest smile.

Lalli sighed and dropped his hands. He knew Emil was doing this to get completely on his good side again, and… he wanted him to. Lalli gulped when Emil got out of bed, and he saw that his pants where still opened and he _still_ was shirtless…

“Cover up.” Lalli demanded with a sudden tightness in his throat. Emil, who had at least the decency to close his pants before kneeling down in front of Lalli to help him with his boots – and enjoy every second of the all the implications of the pose – looked up at him while he gathered the laces of his boots between his fingers.

“Why?” he asked with a grin.

Lalli sighed and looked away.

Emil giggled and started to work on the laces, tying them all around Lalli’s calves, skilfully avoiding the knees, and closed them on his tights when they were all used up. It was, Lalli had to admit, nice to watch him. He liked watching Emil in general, doing all kinds of things, but seeing him kneel there, concentrated on all the tricks Lalli had taught him in how to get the ties just right so that they didn’t loosen up for annoyed Lalli while scouting… it was a sight he wanted to see for the rest of his life.

From time to time, Emil would look up and smile at him.

When he was done, he stood up, and Lalli did the same. They stood there for a moment, Lalli’s nose on one level with Emil’s hair line, and slowly, they wrapped their arms around each other and held each other close.

“Be careful, yes?” Emil said.

Lalli nodded. “I need to go.” he repeated once more, attempting to let go.

Emil nodded. He had given up his playful resistance by now.

“It was… very nice with you tonight.” Emil said, his voice not above a whisper. Lalli, who was about to leave, felt his heart suddenly thumping against his chest again.

“It was.” he answered. He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Emil’s mouth, short, lips closed.

“See you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The challenge will not turn into an Emil/Lalli fest, I swear!
> 
> (Added later)   
> "Baby It's Cold Outside" never left me as soon as I heard it by accident somewhere. It became the kind of song you are not sure that you like, but still want to listen to at least twice a day. The idea to write about this song struck me actually months before this challenge was even announced!


	3. Counting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again! 
> 
> Song: Counting Stars (OneRepublic)  
> Rating: T, but just for some mild swearing  
> Characters: Torolf, Helga and Emil Västerström  
> Tags/Warnings: teenage!Emil, family fights, sad people & yelling at each other

When Torolf Västerström turned the keys to their apartment, quiet overwhelmed him. He laid down his keys and removed his jacket.

“Helga?” he called. There was no answer.

He advanced further into the flat.

“Emil?” he called after his son. Again, there was no answer. When he entered the living-room, he remembered. Helga was still outside… at work. The thought alone sent chills down his spine. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the life they had planned to live.

He sat down in the living-room and started to massage his temples. He had spent a whole day of eight hours bend over a typewriter, summing up numbers for his new boss. It had been a busy day; a report was due soon. He didn’t get a break, or time to eat his lunch.

Only now, he realized how hungry he was. He shuffled over into the kitchen – he recognized the cold tiles underneath his socked feet with a shiver. The whole flat hadn’t been warmed since everyone had left in the morning. There weren’t any servants left to keep a fire on…

Torolf actually gave a sad laugh as he went to the sink to fill a kettle with water. Where would such servants have slept, anyways? They had the living room, a tiny kitchen, a bedroom for him and Helga, and Emil was sleeping in a room that used the be a pantry. They shared a bathroom with the other family on the floor. Torolf remembered the tantrum his son had thrown when he had shown him his new room. Sometimes, Emil reminded him far too much of his wife.

After he had light a fire in the oven and set the kettle to boil, he went into the pantry that was Emil’s room now. It was empty. So Emil was probably still in school.

Torolf sat down in the living room and massages his temples some more. Sometimes, he wondered if this was still worth it. If going to work tomorrow made any difference; they weren’t getting out of this. He would pay the debts off as long as he lived. Maybe even Emil would have to continue paying them. The thought made him want to hit something.

… most likely himself. Because, and that was the most crushing part of it, was all his fault. He made the wrong deal with the wrong people. He turned the family business into a disaster within less than two months. If he had been wiser, if he had listened to some of his employees better, if he, if he…

The kettle whistled and Torolf Västerström stood up and took it off the oven, and poured himself a cup of tea. The leaves had been used before, and he knew that it would taste like almost nothing.

He went back into the living room with his mug and set it on the table, but he was restless. Some days, it wasn’t so bad. Some days, he could ignore everything, drown himself in hours of hard work, help Helga with the chores at night, and fall dead asleep at the end of the day.

When there was nothing to do, the thoughts came back. It had been like this ever since what he had begun to call The Fall, if only in his head.

Before The Fall, everything was going so great. He had a beautiful house, a wonderful wife, a promising son. Now, the house was gone, given to the state to pay off parts of his debt. Helga was deeply unhappy and had threatened to leave him, move back in with her parents. And Emil… he was forced to go on a public school and hated it there. Torolf had to watch his son slowly sink into himself as he tried to protect himself from the hate and ridicule he had to face at school every day – and there was nothing he could do against it.

And in their fruitless anger, both Helga and Emil turned on him. He didn’t blame either of them; he knew that Helga loved him, but this wasn’t the life she had grown up to lead. She was from a rich family; just like he was. She could do so much better, they both knew it. If she decided to file a divorce because he wasn’t providing for her anymore, no one would judge her. She hadn’t yet.

Emil was fifteen. He was complicated, it would be expected from any boy his age. But this, losing all of the comfort he had been used to all his life, being mocked by his peers and sleeping in a pantry… He was miserable. He knew that it was his father’s fault they were in this situation. When Emil banged doors and refused to talk to him, he understood.

Torolf took a sip of his tea. It was bitter.

When he was almost through with his mug, a key was turned and the front door opened. A few seconds later, Helga Västerström came into the living-room and gave a little shriek when she noticed her husband.

“Torolf!” she gasped. “You startled me. Why are you sitting here all in the dark?” She was still wearing her coat and hat.

“Hello, dearest.” He answered and stood up. They gave each other a brief kiss, and when Torolf tried to help her out of her coat, she shrugged his hands away.

He sighed inaudibly and retreated into the kitchen. The fire was out again.

“How long have you been home?” Helga asked, coming into the kitchen now.

“Maybe half an hour. I didn’t look at the clock.” Her husband answered. Helga frowned. “And you didn’t go to the market? I told you we have to buy groceries. Now there will be no more bread left once I get there!”

“I’m sorry.” He said, poking at the cold ashes in the oven with a stick. “I didn’t…” he sighed. “I didn’t dare to go without you.” He said. That was only half a lie, he forgot to go, but also, the market was frightening him. It reminded him too much off all the things he had to learn to survive in their new environment. Torolf was an accounter and a former business owner, he had never learned how to judge if the bread was fresh and if the apples were juicy.

But when she heard him saying that, Helga’s look on him turned softer.

“I can understand that…” she said. She gave him a smile. “Let me just change into a different dress and we can go.” She went into the bed room and closed the door behind herself.

-

When they returned with their shopping later that evening, they found their son sitting on the stairs to the flat, his school equipment next to him.

“Where the HECK were you?!” he yelled as they advanced on the stairs.

“Emil.” His mother said, scolding him for his language.

“I have been sitting on these stairs for at least an hour! Why do you do this to me?!” Emil went on, sounding like he was about to cry. Torolf thought that the last sentence probably was not entirely directed at their lateness.

“I’m sorry, love, we had to do the shopping!” Helga explained while opening the door with her key. “Now be a good boy and help us carry the groceries.” She said.

“I would rather DIE!” Emil outright screamed and stomped into the flat, brushing past both his parents and marching off to his room. Now Torolf felt inclined to say something.

“You do not talk to your mother like that.” He said, but his voice was too small, it wasn’t carrying. He wasn’t made for this. He didn’t want to scold his son. He used to pay people for that, goddammit!

It was no surprise that Emil ignored him entirely and just banged the door of his room shut. They looked at each other, as they often did when Emil was like that.

“You go after him.” Torolf said. “He tells you more than me.”

“You go after him – you have to make him understand he can’t behave like that towards us!” Helga was visibly upset. Emil acting up always did that to her. When they still had servants, Emil was her sweet boy, letting her brush his hair and defend him in front of his nannies.

Torolf didn’t like to admit it, but his son was spoiled. Or had been. As everything else, it was all crumbling to pieces now.

Torolf helped Helga carry the last bag inside of the flat and store it away. He hoped Emil would have calmed down a little by then. Then, he carefully advanced to the door at the end of the kitchen, and knocked.

“Emil?”

“Go away!” Emil yelled. His voice sounded like he was crying.

Torolf looked over to Helga questioningly. What should he do as a father now? Respect Emil’s wish and leave him? Or go through with this authority-thing and barge in and scold Emil?

He decided on the middle way.

“Emil, please. We need to talk.” He said in a firm voice.

“About what?!” Emil yelled through the door back at him.

Torolf sighed and had to think about his sentence for a moment. “About the way you currently talk to your mother and me.”

There was no answer. Torolf felt a ping of stupid, grim happiness. Score! Emil didn’t know an answer to that. In the next moment, he hated himself. When had he turned mean against his own child?

Hesitatingly, he opened the door. Emil sat on his bed, knees drawn up, face hidden behind his arms. He was crying.

“Emil…” Torolf soothingly said. Emil didn’t react, but Torolf knew his son was listening.

“I know this is not easy for you. It’s easy for none of us.” No answer, so he continued.

“But… This is no reason to turn hostile against us. We love you, and we are only trying to provide for you as best as we can. And since there is… no one left, we have to do the chores ourselves.” He swallowed the remark that Emil could do a little more in the household, but only barely.

He waited. No answer, no reaction. Just sniffling.

“Do you understand that, Emil?” he asked, desperately wanting to draw any kind of answer from his son.

“Yes.” Emil mumbled. Torolf knew that he just wanted to be left alone.

“Good. Then go and apologize to your mother.” Torolf proposed. As soon as he said it, he knew he had gone too far.

“For what.” Emil asked. Now he raised his head, a defiant look on his face.

“For yelling at her.” Torolf said. He only barely prevented himself from raising his voice.

“And who’s apologizing at me for letting me stand outside like an idiot?!” Emil said. “Right, nobody is! And who is apologizing at me for making me go to school with these horrible kids? Nobody! Certainly not you! And who is making me sleep in a room where once ONIONS were stored?!” Emil was talking himself right back into another tantrum.

“Emil…” Torolf said, but again he was ignored.

“YOU never apologize to me for ANY of the shit I have to go through!” Emil yelled at his father.

“Emil!” Now, Helga Västerström entered the room as well. Torolf felt himself swallow. This was going horribly.

“I do not want to hear you say these words to your father, or to anybody! This is not what I raised you to!” Helga exclaimed.

“You didn’t raise me to anything! You were never even _there_!” Now, Emil was just spitting poison as much as he could. There was no way to stop it.

Helga next to him gasped and looking over to her, Torolf could see that she was about to cry. She was horrible at fighting, always had been.

“Emil, _stop it_!” Torolf said, now yelling as well to drown out his son. Emil, surprised that suddenly someone was yelling back, looked dumbly at his father.

“You are grounded! And you will never say these horrible things to your mother again! I’m sick of your tantrums!” Torolf bellowed at his son.

“You will stay in your room until you have calmed down, and then you will apologize to both of us!” He realized he had raised his finger into the air, his hand was shivering.

“Come, Helga.” He led his wife out of the room at the small of her back and closed the door behind him.

When they door was closed, Helga and him shared another forlorn look. A pair of red, puffy eyes against a tired one. Torolf took her hand.

“It will get better. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had originally picked out "Carpe Diem" by Green Day for C, but the idea for that just wouldn't come. Then I wrote about Emil's parents and their family history, but it never came together into a well-rounded story, it was more like a collection of headcanons. So I did this. It was actually supposed to fit the song better, as in "dreaming and hoping for better times", but well, it turned out like this, and I am actually happy with it!
> 
> "Counting Stars" I didn't pay much attention to until my Significant Other learned to play it on their guitar, and they have this way of immitating the weird "BOOP" that keeps turning up in the refrain after every second line, and it always cracks me up. And actually, it's a sweet song about dreaming about a life in which money is less important for the narrator. Well, with me it turned out into a family facing a hard time and fighting because they all don't know how to cope.


	4. Denk an mich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOSH. FINALLY.  
> I literally spent like two weeks searching for a song with the letter D I could write to. And when I thought I'd tried everything, I remembered this song. The title means "Think of me".
> 
> Song: Denk an mich (Schandmaul)  
> Rating: Uuuh... Let's give it a Mature, just to be safe.  
> Characters: Sigrun/Tuuri  
> Tags/Warnings: medieval setting, violence, mentions of abuse and rape, major character death. Mentions of sexual intercourse, but nothing graphic.

_So, this is it,_ Sigrun thought. _Funny, that I am to go like this. I always imagined myself dying in honour._

She looked down at the people beneath her, a few dozen faces staring back at her.

Tuuri was there. She almost didn’t manage to look at her. She stood in the very front. Barely three metres away from her, tears streaming down her face, her eyes fixed on Sigrun’s.

Sigrun wanted to say something cheery, tell Tuuri that she shouldn’t cry for her, that it wasn’t worth it. But the noose around her neck, although not tight (yet), choked her nonetheless.

Sigrun raised her head to the sky. A few minutes was all she had left in this world. The thought scared her more than she liked to admit to herself. But, hell, she surely wasn’t going to let anyone know!

 

_It was still early in the morning when Sigrun made her way to the farmer’s market that day. She was in an excellent mood. She had finally found work again; the local authorities had recognized her skill in battle and had offered her a place in their guard. The coins felt heavy in her hand. She had earned them because she had protected their monarch from a robbery that she accidentally witnessed, and they were the only reason she would be able to eat today._

_When she had bought a loaf of freshly baked bread, she turned to a cart that sold produce. In front of the cart stood a young woman, buying some carrots and a cabbage. Upon coming nearer, Sigrun noticed two things: The young woman was heavily pregnant. And the blue and yellow patches that disfigured her pretty face._

_When Sigrun approached the cart from behind, the fresh wet cabbage slipped from the young woman’s hands and fell to the ground. Before she could bend down and retrieve it, Sigrun handed it back to her._

_“Here, miss.” She said. They locked eyes for a moment. Sigrun lost herself in their impossible blue._

_“Thank you, si- ma’am?” The woman – she was barely one, Sigrun noticed – sounded breathless, if because of exhaustion or something else, Sigrun couldn’t tell._

_“Sir, madam, whatever is fine. Can I help you with that?” she pointed to the groceries in the young woman’s hands._

_“That… that would be amazing, actually.” She admitted with a blush. Sigrun grinned and took everything the other woman carried from her hands. “Lead the way, miss.”_

_“You’re too kind.” The woman politely replied. “Excuse my nosiness, but I have never seen you around here. Are you a knight?”_

_“Something among these lines.” Sigrun admitted with a satisfied smile. “What’s your name, miss?”_

_“Tuuri.”_

_“Mine’s Sigrun. Married, I suppose?” she asked, pointing to her face._

_Tuuri sighed. “Indeed.”_

_“That’s a shame.” They both burst into laughter._

_When they parted ways half an hour later, not before Tuuri had insisted on serving Sigrun breakfast at her house, Sigrun was sure she was never going to forget Tuuri again._

 

Sigrun startled to attention when a mumble went through the crowd and the floorboards of the gallows beneath her stool creaked. The executioner had arrived.

 

_They met always during the day, somewhere well off town. Tuuri’s husband was a bookbinder, he had his workshop built into their house. His profession required patience and fine, gentle hands. According to Tuuri, he was good at his job. Too bad he couldn’t show the same qualities at home._

_Almost every time they met, Tuuri arrived with a new bruise, on her face, her arms, her legs. Sometimes a few scratches. Tuuri didn’t like when Sigrun mentioned them, so eventually, she stopped. They walked through the lonely countryside together or rode through the forest on Sigrun’s horse._

_A few months after Tuuri’s  child had been born, they made love to each other, sweetly, carefully. After she had come, Tuuri had cried._

_“Why are you crying? Wasn’t it good?” Sigrun asked, retreating her hands, somewhat confused._

_“No,” Tuuri sobbed “it’s just… I never felt like this before. My life is a lie.”_

_They couldn’t always make love to each other when they met. Sometimes, when Sigrun started kissing Tuuri’s neck and peeling her out of her dress, Tuuri pushed her away._

_“No, Sigrun. I can’t.”_

_At first, Sigrun didn’t question this, simply accepted Tuuri’s wish, as any good lover would. But when she noticed that the rejections didn’t follow a pattern she could detect, she dared asking._

_“Why? Just not feeling it?”_

_Tuuri had started to cry then, all of a sudden. Despite her living conditions, she usually was a cheery one, so after Sigrun had held her for a long while and the sobs had ebbed off, she asked again._

_“Because he… he makes me sleep with him, Sigrun! When he comes home at night, and little Paavo is asleep, he will…” Tuuri broke off into sobs again, but Sigrun didn’t need to hear more._

_The mere thought of it enraged her, greater than she had ever felt it before. She felt like she was going to choke on it._

_“You HAVE to get out of there! Leave him!”_

_“How, Sigrun?! What am I supposed to do then? I’m not like you, I can’t fight for myself, I can’t feed myself! Paavo will die if I leave his father!” Tuuri had started crying again._

_Sigrun wanted to scream back, yell that Tuuri was strong, that she could fight for herself if she only dared trying, that it would take her no risk to his poison her husband or strangle him in his sleep…_

_“Then I’m gonna do it.”_

_“Do what?!” Tuuri’s voice had no breath left._

_“I will kill this godforsaken motherfucker, or die trying.”_

 

And dying it was. Except, she had done it.

As the executioner came over to her and checked the noose around her neck, Sigrun raised her head proudly into the air. Tuuri’s husband was dead.

The last rays of sunlight left her face. Sigrun took a deep breath. She looked down at Tuuri.

“Tuuri!” she yelled.

Immediately, all movement was wiped from Tuuri’s body. They locked eyes one last time.

“Think about me, will you?” She smiled a crooked smile. Tuuri nodded.

The crowd went quiet. The stool was kicked away from underneath her feet. In her last seconds, Sigrun’s only thought was: _She’s free now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can't imagine how glad I am that I finally managed the letter D.
> 
> About the song: I had a phase where I liked to listen to German music a lot, and Schandmaul are a medieval rock band I used to love back then. Most of the time, their songs are stories, and this song is exactly the story I wrote about in the end. And I LOVE songs with stories.


	5. Everybody Needs Somebody to Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a lot harder to write about Mikkel than I expected. His thoughts and feelings come not easy to me, sadly. 
> 
> Song: Everybody needs somebody (Blues Brothers)  
> Rating: Teen  
> Characters: Mikkel, (Sigrun)  
> Tags/Warnings: brief mention of Emil/Lalli, mentions of sexual things

“And theeere they go. Kinda cute, isn’t it?” Sigrun didn’t even try to hide her giggle as she watched Lalli pull Emil along, somewhere out of the sight of the crew.

As a response, Mikkel grunted.

“Aw come on, big man.” Sigrun teased and nudged him in the side. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”

As usual when Sigrun was getting too nosy, Mikkel resorted to his usual tactic.

“It is not my duty to tell you this.”

Sigrun laughed and didn’t press the matter any further. Mikkel watched her as she scratched at her arm once more before getting up and disappearing back into the tank.

She would probably have forgotten about this conversation within the next minutes, it was very much like her to do so.

But in Mikkel, Sigrun’s remark had set something off. Sure, it was to be expected that when you put six people, of whom four where still very young, into a crammed tank for a few months and made them endure hard labour and stress together, that at least two of them would eventually start an affair or even fall in love.

Mikkel was not the kind of person to openly express their opinions to everybody would couldn’t run away fast enough, like Sigrun did, neither were his expressions visible in plain sight on his face, like with Emil or Reynir. To other people, he seemed closed off, while underneath, his brain had a hard time standing still.

Both these things were probably the reason why he had not been able to establish a relationship that lasted longer than one of his jobs did.

And even though he would never admit it to anyone, and first and foremost not to Sigrun, he regretted that.

There was no time to feel lonely in this tank, of course. He, Mikkel, was probably the one who had had the most time to himself before Reynir had joined them, but since the young Icelander was an ever-present shadow stuck to his back, he couldn’t remember the last time he had spent more than five minutes completely alone and in blissful silence.

And then there was Sigrun of course. Not a possible partner, that was not to be talked about. She had become a respected superior and a friend, but Mikkel preferred his girlfriends less dangerous. He didn’t like to admit it, but sleeping next to a woman that could strangle him in his sleep without putting much strength into it still scared him a little. He hadn’t met many women like Sigrun in his life up to now.

Talking to her was good, was interesting and soothing at the same time. She had a thing of wiping his fears away without him even having to mention them. But she was, for so many reasons, not a lover.

And there was another piece of mind he would never offer to Sigrun: He missed the warmth and familiarity of having someone to come back to, pulling someone into a long hug, falling asleep together, a warm and heavy body close to his own.

His first relationship had – and he imagined most of the first relationships of people to be like that – been with a girl in his town. He was fifteen and so confused about his sex he would have said yes if a grossling had asked him, she was sixteen, but looked and acted as if she was a decade older.

They met for a few weeks, always between school and home chores, sometimes her or his younger siblings were with them because they were assigned with taking care of them. He brought her flowers sometimes, they kissed maybe thrice. He kept feeling awkward in her presence and she quickly lost interest.

When he was seventeen, he got on a ship to Iceland. He wanted to get away from the stuffy island that was the whole of Denmark. Aboard, he met a girl. She was with the cooks and about his age, only now Mikkel realized he never asked. They liked to talk while cutting onions and washing vegetables together, she was the first one to teach him a bit of Icelandic. One evening, as everyone got drunk on some self-made Icelandic booze, she snuck of with him and they had sex. He was trying very hard not to let through that he had no idea what he was doing, and she was nice about it. They did this a few more times during the trip, but he never saw her again after the ship had reached Reykjavik.

But the encounters with her had left her with new knowledge that Mikkel was interested to deepen, so he read up on it. In Bornholm, that would have been a quick business – he would probably have found two books about reproduction methods from before their time measurement – but not in Reykjavik. Reykjavik had a library, and the biggest in the known world, too.

So when he wasn’t busy helping people out in their shops or selling lamb hot-dogs in a little stall at the harbour, he was reading.

When he left Reykjavik a few months later for home because no one else would give him work anymore, he felt like he had learned a lot.

He put it to good use in no other place than the military. Barely half a year after his return, he went away with the military campaign called together to win back Danish land from the rash. Most of the forces were young men and women like himself, barely trained at all. Even bigger was his luck that no other than his next in command, a woman younger than him, but an excellent commander, took interest in his company. They talked through long nights, they fought alongside one another. The first time Mikkel eat her out until she came, she looked at him like she was never going to leave him.

But like so many others in that campaign, she died. It still pained Mikkel to even think about it, think back to the day they carried her away, away from the battle and away from him. By the time he could come and visit her in the field hospital, she was unconscious without return. She died of her injuries a few hours later.

Ever since, he had had flings. Sex with some women who felt up for it, a few short relationships with women who liked his wits and his company. But as soon as he got fired and had to move on, so did they. He always had the nagging feeling of not being good enough, was it to keep a job or a girlfriend.

His family, he glumly thought, still wondered if he was gay and just too scared to come out to them.

But the further he got in life, the more people he got to know, the more he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed someone. That being alone or having one-night stands was not the way he wanted to go about life.

He thought himself a decent man, not the prettiest and maybe not the most approachable, but intelligent and gentle. Maybe he should search the ruins for a book about flirting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song was a suggestion by the lovely Windfighter! Because I was struggling to find a song with E.


	6. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, at it again! This time, with beta-reading from my lovely friend amity! 
> 
> Song: First Date (blink-182)  
> Rating: Gen   
> Characters/Relationships: Emil/Lalli   
> Summary: Collage AU. The rest is in the song title.

_Give her some flowers_ , his mom had said.

_Girls love flowers. Girls love if you compliment them. Girls love if you put their arm around them. Always be attentive and polite. Don’t pressure her into anything. Meet her parents._

And so many other things. But Emil was just interested in the one question he didn’t dare asking: Did all that also apply to boys?

It had been impossible to hide his nervousness after he finally had the courage to ask Lalli out. Nothing special, just take his dad’s car and drive into the next town, maybe grab something to eat. Nevertheless, he had been practically bouncing home that afternoon.

So when he sat at the dinner table that night, his parents both had this unbearable, annoying grin on their face. After prayers, there had been silence at first, for long enough to lull Emil into false security.

“So!” his father had said, still this weird expression on his face. “Who is she?”

Emil’s had snapped up. “What?”

And his father had made this stupid “I know you better than you know yourself”-face and said: “Well, this young lady of yours.”

By then, Emil had been brightred in the face and looking down into his mac and cheese as if they could provide a getaway.

“There is no lady.” He had murmured. Because it was entirely true.

“Come on, Emil!” his mother had smiled at him and put his hand on his. “As soon as you came home this afternoon, I knew _exactly_ what was going on! I think I had the same look on my face when…” She giggled with a side-glance to her husband.

“Nonsense!” Emil’s dad had said with a grin. “He looks just like me when I was his age, wondering how I was going to go about it!”

This banter had gone on for quite some time, and every second had been a greater agony then the last. His parents meant well, Emil knew.

He just wasn’t sure at all what they would think about the whole truth. So eventually, he had played along. “The girl” was named Samantha now, and she was the sister of a guy who was on his football team. No, they didn’t know the guy yet. His name was… Chub.

Yeah, that wasn’t the strongest part of the story.

She had pale blonde hair and the sweetest smile, but she wouldn’t show it to just anyone.

Of course he could have the car. Of course his mom insisted on helping him pick out some flowers. They even drove to the city the day before and bought him a new dress shirt, a dark blue one, to go with his best pants.

If she really liked him, she’d show up in a dress, his mom had said. Emil had almost laughed at that.

And then, the evening had come.

He spent two hours in the bathroom, showering, shaving off the few hairs he grew on his upper lip.

Emil looked into the mirror and tried a smile. He saw a boy of 17 years, with blond hair that was longer than that of any other boy he knew, with a soft, squishy face, broad shoulders… and a big fat pimple on his jawline. He winced as he pinched it open and drew blood. Hastily, he wiped it off with a tissue, only to smear a thin streak of blood over his face.

This wasn’t going the way he had planned! He washed his whole face thoroughly again, but the spot kept bleeding. Damn.

What should he do?

He glanced around the room for something to help him. A patch wouldn’t do, he would look like a complete idiot, especially in front of Lalli, whose skin always seemed to be perfect when Emil saw him in class.

He had once read that toothpaste could dry out pimples… He took the tube in his hand and considered it for a moment. Better not. He was just going to have to endure the fact that he was a teenager and looked like one, too.

Unless… His eyes darted over to his mom’s toiletries. If he just managed to conceal it a little…

 “Emil, it’s 6:45! You really need to go!” his mother was at the bathroom door. Even though the door was locked, Emil squeaked and the concealer fell into the sink with a high _clink_.

“Coming!” he yelled back, fishing it from the sink, closing it and cramming his mom's cosmetic bag back into its usual place.

Then, he allowed himself one last look in the mirror. Where the bloody pimple used to be was a visible bright spot where the concealer had, one the one hand, done the job it had been produced for, but on the other hand highlighted the area of skin.

Emil sighed and ruffled through his hair one last time. No one was going to notice. It was almost dark outside by now. Lalli was never going to get _that_ close to his face, right?

Entertaining the thought made him sweat under his newly-shaved armpits.

Outside the bathroom door, his mom was waiting with the flowers.

She smiled when he came out. “You look amazing, sweetie!” She said, wanting to pull him for a hug, but he backed out, scared she might get too good a look on his face.

“I have to hurry, mom!” he said, taking the flowers from her and hurrying downstairs, his mom trailing after him.

“Thanks for all the help!” he yelled back at her, grabbing the car keys from the table in the hallway.

“Have fun, Emil!” she said. “And be back by midnight, you hear me!”

“Sure!” he said, half out of the door already.

And then, he was free. He ran over the lawn in the dark and got into the black SUV his dad drove.

Time to focus on the important things. He drove a few blocks, past houses he had known all his life, filled with people who were never allowed to know what he was going to do.

His heart beat faster by the second until it felt ready to jump right out of his throat.

Emil stopped by the park, their agreed meeting spot. He parked right next to the pavement and almost jumped when the car door opened immediately. But it was him.

Lalli slid into the shotgun seat with the way that was typical for him: with a quiet, unobtrusive elegance.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey!” Emil answered, out of breath for some reason. He gave Lalli a quick nervous glance. He just wore a t-shirt and tight jeans. He didn’t look much different from usual. Fuck, had Emil overdone it?! He suddenly felt stupid in his good pants and his new shirt.

“Um, so.” Emil said, turning the car key around. “Where do you wanna go?”

Lalli put on his seatbelt. He seemed calm as still waters, like he was not nervous as all, whereas Emil had trouble breathing.

“Don’t know.” He said, throwing Emil a glance. “Anywhere where they don’t know us.” The gravity he said it with made Emil’s stomach turn.

“Would if I could!” he said with a shaky laugh, still trying to catch his breath as he drove out of his parking position. “How about the diner…?”

Lalli shrugged and leaned back in his seat. Emil was sweating and felt uncomfortable, but he drove there anyway.

“Um. So.” Emil said, eyes fixed on the road. “I’m glad you agreed to go out with me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Lalli nodding, but he couldn’t be sure.

“And, um, I.” Emil said. “Um, do your parents know?”

This time, he could definitely hear Lalli’s hair rustling as he shook his head. “They can’t know.” He said. “They would throw me out immediately. My aunt is from a Mormon family.”

“Your aunt?” Emil asked.

“My parents are dead. I am living with my aunt and uncle.” Lalli explained, his voice still calm.

Emil swallowed and felt the heat rising to his face. How could he not know that?!

“How did you know I was gay?” Lalli asked suddenly.

Emil gasped as he heard the word.

“I, I saw the way you, you know.” He stammered, eyes noticing every single detail on the road so they didn’t have to notice anything inside the car.

“I saw the way you looked at me.” This was bold. He breathed and went on anyway. “I figured you’d have me figured out so I thought I might as well ask.”

No reaction.

“What would you have done if I had told everyone?” Lalli asked.

Emil sighed and allowed himself a quick side glance to find that Lalli was mustering him from the side. These impossible eyes, fixed all on him.

“I don’t know.” Emil said. “Probably challenge you to a fist fight to prove everyone I’m cool.” There was only a little bit of humour in his voice.

“Because gay boys can’t fight.” Lalli said, his voice dropping with irony.

Emil scoffed. “Exactly.”

“And gay boys can’t play sports.” Lalli said, with even more mocking in his voice.

“You are doing karate, right?” Emil asked. Another side glance. God, he was beautiful when he looked at him like that.

“Yeah.” Lalli said. “And you are the star of the football team.” It was not a question.

Emil scoffed again. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but yeah. I have never been the reason we win so often, but by now I’ve been there so long that they all think I must be important somehow. You once came to watch, right?”

Now it was Lalli’s time to scoff. “I came almost every week the past season.”

“Really?!” Emil felt himself turning red again. Why hadn’t he noticed? He was a complete idiot, wasn’t he?!

“I- I didn’t see you. Except maybe once. Um.” He had to know. He just _had to_. “Did you come for me?”

Lalli let out a little laugh that almost made Emil drive into the ditch.

“No, because I am a really, really, _really_ big fan of football. Of course I came for you.”

Emil felt like he was going to black out. Lucky for him, they were almost there.

As they drove into the parking lot, they could already see through the tall glass windows that the diner was packed. Emil swallowed. Should he- “Let’s go somewhere else.” Lalli said.

Emil exhaled in relief and drove back onto the highway.

“Do you know anywhere?” he asked, eyes on the road again.

“Not really. I was just hoping to get as far away as possible with the time we got.” Lalli answered.

Emil nodded and dug his feet into the accelerator. They drove in silence for a few minutes until the next exit came up.

“Here?” Emil asked.

“Why not.” Lalli gave back. Emil drove in and they found themselves in a small town, mostly blocks of private houses in neat rows, a commercial street with very few people wandering around.

“It has a mall.” Emil pointed out. “Let’s go there.”

As there was no audible reaction from Lalli, Emil pulled over and parked nearby. As they got out, Emil had another chance to give Lalli a proper look. He was a little bit taller than him, but looked half as broad. And then there were the prominent cheekbones and the huge, soulful eyes that Emil couldn’t get enough of. As they left the car and stood side by side on the pavement, Emil wondered if he should approach Lalli, maybe give him a hug, just as a proper greeting. Then, Lalli started walking and the moment was gone again.

Then, Lalli suddenly stopped again just short of the entrance doors.

“There’s a park.” He said, looking past the mall to their left.

“Don’t you want to eat something?  I could invite you.” Emil said.

Lalli gave him a look and shook his head a little. He looked determined. “Let’s go there.”

He said, and without a second glance to him, he made a beeline towards the gate of the city park. Emil followed suit.

The park was dark, but the summer air blew a warm breeze around them. Once inside the park gates, Lalli waited for him. Somehow, the row of trees that protected them from the lights of the street made Emil feel safe. They started walking along, side by side, closer than before.

“When did you know?” Lalli asked, out of the blue.

“Since forever. I just never knew if I could dare to act on it. If it was worth the trouble, you know.” Emil answered. “You?”

Lalli sighed and didn’t answer immediately. “For a while now. At first, I hoped I could make it go away. Then I saw you.”

Emil looked at Lalli, who in turn didn’t look back at him. “Me?!”

Lalli nodded, still walking, still not looking at him.

“Because you looked so…” he trailed off. “I couldn’t think of anything else anymore.”

“Then what?” Emil asked, feeling like he was going to pass out from his own heart stumbling over itself.

“Then this.” Lalli said. “So I came to your games and sat behind you in class when I could. And I hoped you’d notice something being different about me.” He looked at Emil and smiled. “And you did.”

They walked some more, in silence, Emil throwing Lalli side glances from time to time.

“I’m so glad I managed to notice!” Emil said, letting out another breathless laugh.

The next thing he felt was Lalli’s hand, dry and warm, awkwardly grabbing his fingers, closing around them. They fumbled for a second, but then they were holding hands. Emil felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

In this park, in the safety of darkness, they could be themselves, if only for a few hours. Somewhere in the backseat of the car, the flowers were drying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact about me number 275: Blink-182 was on of the first "real" bands I listened to, when I was like 11 years old, because a guy I was friends with at that time liked them. They kind of got me hungry for rock and punk music in the first place.


	7. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuurgh. Happy belated Halloween. I have worked on this during the holiday, then got sick, then got busy with uni, then got sick again. 
> 
> Song: Ghost (Mystery Skulls)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Characters/Relationships: Emil/Lalli (in the background), Tuuri, Reynir, Onni  
> Summary: Emil, Lalli, Tuuri and Reynir go and explore a haunted house for Halloween.  
> Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Onni is a big brother

_“Let’s go to a haunted house for Halloween!” Tuuri said. “It will be so much fun!” She said_.

Yet here they were, and up to now, the evening seemed like to be anything but fun.

For once, it was cold as _balls_. Emil blew into his hands as he walked up to the front door of Lalli’s house to pick him and Tuuri up. He really wished he had brought gloves. Or a hat, for that matter, even though hats always ruined his hairdo.

He pressed the bell, one time short, one time long, the commonly agreed upon sign for visitors for the Hotakainen children. A moment later, Tuuri peaked her head out of the door.

“Emil!” she said, grinning, but made no move to open the door further yet. “Um, are you ready?” Emil asked. “It’s really damn cold.”

“Just a moment, I have to get dressed!” Tuuri said, already on her way back upstairs. Emil opened the door for himself and entered the hallway, which was the usual mess of shoes, jackets, hats and scarves of a family of five. He peeked into the kitchen to find Lalli sitting on the kitchen counter, nibbling on a muffin. He stopped and tried to hide it as he noticed Emil coming in, but then smiled and bit off another bite.

“Thought you were Tuuri.” He said between the chewing. “Anne-Mari and Juha aren’t there.” Emil smiled, walked over and stood on his tiptoes to steal a kiss from Lalli from his slightly higher position, using Lalli’s parted legs as support.

“Are you psyched about going out in the cold like that?” Emil asked after their lips had parted.

“Hm, could be cool. I always wanted to see that house.” Lalli said. “Don’t you want to?”

“I’m freezing my ass off out there!” Emil complained.

Lalli embraced his shoulders and put his head onto his. “I’m gonna make sure your ass stays right where it is.” He said, but a bit quieter than before.

Emil giggled and turned around, but just as he was about to lean in for another kiss, Lalli pushed Emil away from him and out of the embrace between his legs. Emil turned around and immediately saw why: Lalli’s oldest cousin Onni had just walked into the kitchen and eyed them suspiciously. Lalli and Emil were out to their families, but that didn’t have to mean that everybody was a hundred percent happy with that.

“You can do that in your room.” Onni grumbled as he filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove.

Lalli jumped off the counter and stuffed the last of his muffin in his mouth without granting Onni the pleasure of an answer. Grabbing Emil’s hand, he stalked out of the kitchen with him before Emil even had the chance to give an embarrassed “Hi” and the usual handshake to Onni.

“Do you want to borrow gloves?” Lalli asked when they were in the hallway. From above, they could hear voices and frantic giggling.

“Yes, I’d love that – is Reynir already here?” Emil asked, pointing upstairs. Lalli nodded while he rummaged around in a cupboard and handed Emil a pair of old, scratchy brown gloves.

“He’s been here for two hours already.” Lalli scrunched up his nose to show what the thought about that. “They are picking outfits or something.”

Emil and Lalli threw each other looks that meant exactly the same. “Shall I go get them?” Emil offered. He barely waited for Lalli to nod before he made his way upstairs. Lalli wanted to follow a moment later, but was held back by Onni, who just emerged into the hall.

“Lalli?”

Lalli turned around to face his cousin, although somewhat reluctant. “Hm?”

“Are you and Emil planning on going out tonight?” Onni asked, brows furrowed as the steam from his tea rose up in front of his face.

“Yeah, we are going to a Halloween party. Tuuri and Reynir are coming, too.” Lalli lied in a heartbeat. Onni would make a fuss if he knew what they were actually planning.

Onni nodded slowly. He didn’t look happy, but there was also nothing he could do to object the idea. Parties were normal, everybody went to Halloween parties.

“Okay, but be back by midnight. And mom said Emil is not sleeping over while they are gone.” Onni said.

Lalli rolled his eyes and took his coat off the rack without giving an answer at first.

“Lalli, did you hear me? And you can tell Tuuri that-“

But he was stopped in his tracks when Emil, Tuuri and Reynir came bolting down the stairs.

“Oh, hi, Onni, didn’t see you!” Tuuri smiles when they all start putting on their shoes and coats. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one gets hurt or something while we go to-“

“While we go to that totally awesome Halloween _party_!” Lalli threw in, shooting Tuuri a dirty look.

“Yeah, we are totally going to a Halloween party!” Reynir said in Onni’s direction. He was going to say something else, but stopped, when Emil threw his coat after him. None of this escaped Onni’s eyes.  

A moment later, everybody was out the door and down the street, leaving behind a confused and worried Onni.

The four of them walked down the street together, Tuuri ahead of them all with small, but determined steps, Reynir hurrying behind her, his braid tailing after him, and at the rear Emil and Lalli, holding each other’s gloved hands.

“So, where is that house, actually?” Reynir asked no one in particular. He had only moved into their town two years ago and wasn’t as familiar with everything as the others.

“It’s at the end of the street where Maggie lives,” Tuuri said, using the home of a classmate of them as a reference point.

“Doesn’t that mean everyone will be able to see us from the street?” Emil asked. He knew where the house was, but unlike Tuuri, who had an interest in all kinds of dangerous and spooky stuff, he hadn’t been there in years.

“Nooo, theirs is a huge park around the house, remember? Once you’re in there, it’s like in the middle of the woods!” Tuuri exclaimed. “We just have to make sure no one sees us climbing the fence!”

“There is a fence?” Reynir asked. He didn’t sound particularly happy.

“Yeah, but not a high one. Lalli might even be able to squeeze through the bars!” Tuuri said, grinning back at her cousin, who didn’t even acknowledge the joke. He knew he was skinny without anyone pointing it out, thank you very much.

For a few minutes, the four of them walked in silence, looking at the houses they passed by. Since it was the 31st of October, it was fully dark outside even if it was barely 7pm. From time to time, a group of children in costumes would pass them, sometimes accompanied by a parent, all armed with buckets for the candy they were about to hunt. The groups grew fewer the more streets they passed.

“Oh, I wished I could still do that!” Emil smiled as a last ghost had that been trailing after its group ran past him. “Getting candy you don’t have to pay for yourself is still the best kind of candy.”

“Speaking of candy, Tuuri and me baked muffins this afternoon!” Reynir said. “We can eat them when we’re back.”

“If Lalli left some.” Tuuri said, throwing Lalli another side-glance, who pretended he didn’t see, but the others laughed about it anyway.

They rounded another corner and reached the street they were headed for.

“There we are!” Tuuri said, pointing to a property at the other end of the street, barely visible except for a large amount of tall trees that distanced it from the neatly-mown front lawns of all the other houses. From their current position, they could only make out what was illuminated by the street lights.

“But won’t Onni know that we didn’t go to a Halloween party if we come back in two hours?” Emil asked.

“Oh, whatever, he’s going to be in bed by that time anyway. Probably crying because no one will celebrate Halloween with him.” Tuuri said with a wave of her hand.

Before Emil and Lalli had become boyfriends, Emil had always thought that Tuuri and Lalli were treating their older sibling/cousin a little bit unfairly. Now that Emil was officially part of the family because he and Lalli were a couple, he had no such sentiments for Onni anymore, because of the constant awkward stares Onni gave him whenever he entered the Hotakainen family home.

By now, they had reached the property of what Tuuri called The Haunted House, in capital letters. It was surrounded by two things: Large, dark pine trees that swayed creepily in the cold autumn wind and a two-meter-high fence of wrought iron, with spikes at the top.

“Uuuuuh…” Reynir made as they approached it.

“Tuuri?” Emil said, putting his hand against one of the bars as if to test it.  “How did you think we were going to climb that?”

Tuuri grinned. “Fear not, my brave friends, I have everything planned out! Come!”

Tuuri lead them along the fence for a few meters until they rounded a corner and were now walking alongside of the property, away from the street. A few meters in stood a group of pine trees that hadn’t given a care about the barriers the humans had erected and grown outside of their designated area. Tuuri made a beeline for the one closest to the fence.

“We just need to climb up that tree and then climb over the fence once we’re high enough, and then get onto that other tree on the other side, climb down again – and bam, we’re in!” She said, still grinning widely.

The others looked at the trees, then at each other. It seemed dangerous and likely that they would at least strain a few ankles on the way – but not trying smelled of an early defeat, so they did it.

Tuuri went first, to show them the way she had thought out for them. When she was halfway up the tree, Lalli followed her. Tuuri struggled on her way over the fence – her legs weren’t quite long enough to reach the next tree easily, so she had to balance on top of the fence between the spikes for a moment to reach over, but she made it. Lalli followed her easily, mimicking her steps, but performing them with the ease of someone who has long legs and has climbed every tree in his neighbourhood for all his childhood. Next up was Reynir. He made it up the first tree and over the fence okay, but then he got a strand of his hair tangled with a branch. 

“Reynir, do-“ Tuuri shouted, but it was too late: Reynir jumped down the last remaining meter of the second tree. In the next moment, he gave a pained scream and sat on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Tuuri asked, squatting next to him.

“I think I ripped out some hair…” Reynir said, pressing his teeth together against the sharp pain that still tingled over the right side of his scalp. When he touched the spot that hurt the most, his fingers came away coated with a very thin smear of blood.

“Yep.” Lalli had climbed up the tree again and fetched a thick strand of ginger hair from between to intersections of a branch. He handed it Reynir with his arm outstretched.

“Thanks.” Reynir said unhappily, looking sadly at his loss. “Gonna glue that back on at home.” He added and stuffed it into the rear pocked of his jeans, because it seemed weird to just leave it lying on the grass. Besides, if they were ever going to try and convict him of trespassing for this, he didn’t want to make it easier.

After that, Emil took utmost care to not tangle his – although much shorter – hair in any branches and not to jump down any distances, no matter how short.

When they finally had all made it to the other side, they all flicked on their torches and carefully advanced. Between and underneath the pine trees, everything was pitch black, making everything seem an uncomfortable grey until it was hit by the full light of a torch.

“Pretty creepy, huh?” Emil said to Reynir walking next to him, and Reynir just nodded.

The group stayed close together, all except Tuuri, who seemed to couldn’t get to main part of the event fast enough: the house.

Just as they were about to be able to make out one of the outer walls, there was a loud crack of wood far behind them. Everybody froze and looked at each other, torches turned to the ground.

“Rabbits, probably.” Tuuri said with a reassuring smile and went on. The others followed, exchanging frightened glances.

For a few moments, they followed the outer wall of the house, brushing their fingers along the dirty bricks as a small but solid comfort against the looming darkness on their other side. Then, they turned a corner and good in front of the stairs that made to the porch and the main entrance.

“Ancient colonial style, huh?” Emil said, looking up the two-story building. “Could even be nice if someone- “He suddenly stopped as there was another crack, again, somewhere behind them.

“Turn off your torches!” Tuuri commanded. “Maybe we can see it then.”

“It?!” Squeaked Reynir as everybody complied. For a moment, they stood in the darkness above a pitch-black sky, and the only things they heard where the rustling of the wind in the pine trees. Nobody moved or made a sound.

“It’s really probably just rabbits”, Emil offered. He wasn’t so sure about it himself, but he figured it could never hurt to offer some consolation to the party.

“Okay, let’s go!” Tuuri said in a bad stage-whisper and bounded up the stairs to the porch. The floorboards creaked as they all stepped onto it, and the three boys nervously stood behind Tuuri as she fiddled with the doorknob and pulled.

“I think the wood is bent.” Lalli said after Tuuri’s latest attempt almost ripped the doorknob out. “Emil, help me.” With Emil slightly lifting the door in its angles, Lalli and Tuuri were able to pull it open.

The stench of rotten wood and dust welcomed them inside as they, one by one, squeezed into a tiny hallway. From there, they advanced through an open door to the left and entered the kitchen. Weirdly enough, it smelled horribly like rotting old dishes.

“Say, Tuuri,” Emil began as he carefully inspected the sink “how long has this been abandoned?”

“Uh, I guess since at least 15 or 20 years?” Tuuri answered, peeking into a cabin. “No one lived there ever since I can remember.”

“That’s weird.” Lalli said. He had opened a door at the far end of the kitchen and stared into the darkness ahead.

“What?” Emil said, backing away from the dirty dishes in the sink that were covered in mould and flies.

No answer from Lalli.

“What?!” Reynir asked. He had been standing in the middle of the kitchen, unsure if he wanted to approach anything.

Emil walked up to Lalli and peeked over his shoulder. The next second, he let out a terrifying scream.

“What? What’s wrong, Emil?!”  Tuuri and Reynir came stumbling towards to two of them.

The first thing they curious heads were greeted by was a terrible stench that made all of them gag, most of all Emil, who had his mouth open for too long because he needed to scream. Inside the pantry lay the half-rotten carcass of a dead dog. Now close up to it, the smell of fouling meat was unbearable. Tuuri threw the pantry door shut.

“Let’s move along.” She said, and everybody was eager to leave the gruel kitchen.

“Why do you think that was in there?!” Reynir asked as they advanced into the next room through a side door.

For once, it was Lalli who spoke up: “Maybe the owners- whoa. The fuck.”

They had found the living room. And what a living room that was. As they slowly filed in, they couldn’t believe their eyes: Everything looked new and flawless. The table in the middle was polished and shiny, so was the floor. The windows out of the far side were clean, and there were fresh candles on every windowsill. The chairs stood around the table in orderly manner, and the couch on the right wall looked as new and comfortable as if it had been bought yesterday.

But the weirdest of all things was: Again, it smelled faintly like rotten flesh.

“This is… upsetting.” Emil commented. “This place is definitely either not abandoned…”

“… or haunted!” Tuuri said. Her eyes were glistening. She walked into the room and looked around, peeked through a glass cabinet door that revealed rows of shiny new wine glasses and stacks of fancy china behind it.

“This is even better than I thought!”

“I think we should go.” Lalli said. Everyone paused to look at him because of his tone of voice. He looked clearly uncomfortable and kept looking around nervously.

“I agree!” Reynir said. “This place is weird. Either the owner of all of this will come in any second and shoot us, or something is playing a really- “He stopped again when once again, somewhere behind them, was a CRACK.

None of them moved. But the sound didn’t come back.

“I say we press forward and see what this is about.” Tuuri whispered and made a beeline through the room for the door that was on the far-right side. The others followed, because nobody wanted to stay behind.

The room Tuuri reached through the next door was indeed not a room, but a corridor, leading straight to another door, but seemingly spanning a good length of the… backside of the house? They all weren’t even sure anymore. The corridor was relatively lit because on the left side, every few meters was a window, letting dim moonlight inside.

Even as they only closed the door to the creepy living room behind them, they could see something lying in the way, about the size of a… small animal. Again, the stench was stronger here.

“Um, I think there’s another dead dog…” Emil mused as they carefully – because what choice did they have? – pressed forward. One after the other, they resolved to covering their mouth and noses with their scarves or shirts.

Again, Tuuri was ahead of the group and soon stood in front of the carcass. It was a dead animal, indeed, but it was hard to tell what it was. It was rotten even worse than the last one, but smaller in size.

“No dog, I think?” Tuuri said, with a glance to Lalli, who nodded. “Let’s go on.” They all stepped over it and quickly crossed the corridor to the end.

At the door, even Tuuri faltered. “Should I open it?” she asked.

“Well, we’re not going back to that living room!” Emil said, a little impatiently because he was panicking.

Tuuri turned the knob and then gave the door a gentle push, so it would open without her immediately stepping through the frame. They found another… weird room. This one was some kind of sitting room. It contained two plush, perfect-looking green arm chairs, completey with a side table with a carafe of wine and two glasses sitting on it. It looked as good as if it had been freshly poured. Behind the chairs were two large book shelves, and on a small desk to one side of the room were papers and pens scattered about, like they had been left alone barely a minute ago.

“Fuck.” Reynir whispered. “I wanna get out of here so bad.”

Emil uncovered his mouth to say something too, but immediately re-covered it and even stuffed some of the scarf in his mouth to prevent himself from gagging.

“Guyf” he said “I fou notife that it ftinfs really bad again?” He spat out his scarf because he realized it didn’t help.

“Yeah…” Tuuri said warily. Again, she was the first one to properly step into the room, although she did it much more reluctantly than the first times now. She inspected the wine caraf.

“This stuff is not even dusty on the surface…” she said. Meanwhile, Reynir carefully brushed over the arm chair’s upholstery.

“Not a single gain of dust.” He commented, looking like he was about to start crying.

All of them screamed or this time when another crack sounded somewhere else in the house, this time, followed by a small sound that could only be made a human voice.

“Okay, there is definitely someone else in this house.” Emil stated, looking around at the others.

“We should get back into the front and apologize for trespassing, and then- fuck, another dead thing.” While he had been talking, Emil had inspected the desk and found another rotting piece of flesh curled up underneath the desk chair.

“I don’t even wanna know what it is, _please_.” Reynir said, demonstratively looking out of the window, until he realized that only fuelled his fear as a result from all the horror movies he had seen in his life.

Ignoring Reynir as usually, Lalli stepped next to Emil and leaned down a bit.

“I think it’s a… cat?” he said. “But a very small one.”

“Oh, please!” Reynir repeated, looking seriously uncomfortable and pissed off now.

“Let’s just go like Emil said, and- WHAT THE FUCK!” Everyone turned around to see what Reynir was facing, and that’s when panic broke loose: Through the half-closed door or the corridor, a white spectre in the form of cat had appeared, but as it saw everyone pointing and screaming, it seemingly got scared itself and returned through the door where it had come from fast as lightening.  The group huddled together in one corner of the room beside a bookshelf.

“What WAS that?!” Emil wailed, pressing Lalli’s hand, who looked shell-shocked and didn’t move an inch.

“Please, I want to go home! This is creepy and I can’t take any _more_ of this!” Reynir was actually crying now.

“I don’t think this was what we thought it was, it was probably just a regular cat! I’m sure it was lighting! I mean, there are not ghosts, not seriously, right? Right?!” Tuuri babbled.

“Okay, deep breaths, everyone.” Emil sighed. “We should get out of here, right?” Everyone nodded.

“Then we have two ways: Either we go back where we come from, or we press on and find the quickest way from the other side out.”

“Or we break a window and bolt.” Lalli added.

“Or that.” Emil admitted, a little ashamed he didn’t have the same idea. As soon as Lalli said that, Reynir practically jumped at the nearest window and started trying to pry it open – it didn’t budge. Even with Tuuri fumbling with the mechanism and Emil and Lalli pushing and pulling in Reynir’s aid, they couldn’t move it an inch. The thought that they couldn’t even open a window freaked them out more than everything else before.

“Okay, I’ll try to break the glass.” Emil said. He covered his fist in his scarf, took a deep breath to brace himself and then banged his fist against the glass. He let out a short wail of pain, but the glass didn’t even crack.

“Have you ever done this before?” Reynir asked.

“Stop doubting me!” Emil hissed at him, banging the glass one more time, and another time for good measure. It didn’t work.

“Okay, this this fruitless, let’s go!” Tuuri said, making her way for the next door. The next room was kind of continuation of the last one, leading into a proper study – and again, it was like the other rooms before: Shiny, new and very smelly.

All the space on the walls was made of bookshelves, again, looking like they had only been put there a few days ago, with books all looking new and un-touched. There was no other door leading out of the room again.

“Darn it!” Tuuri said. “We need to go back!”

“Back to that weird cat?” Reynir said. “No, thank you, I’d rather die than go through all these rooms again!”

“Also, there is someone following us, did you forget?” Lalli said.

“But what alternative is there?!” Tuuri spat back, frantically looking around the room for another way out. They all walked around the room and inspected the bookshelves, half-expecting a hidden door to appear of they touched the right book or looked at the right shelf, but nothing happened.

“This is not helping, let’s go.” Lalli said decidedly, and marched right out of the room. One by one, they followed him back into the library, first Emil, followed by Reynir, then Tuuri. They all stopped walking when they suddenly realized the room had… changed. Everything was suddenly worn down, the armchairs looked worn out and moldy, there were pieces torn out of the upholstery, and the desk looked ready to fall apart and join the remains of its chair – a chair that had been perfectly fine only a few minutes ago.

“Fuck.” Emil whispered and fumbled for Lalli’s hand.

“Let’s just go on…” Reynir whispered. And that’s what they did. With great reluctance, they opened the door to the corridor and all stepped inside. They were all visibly relieved to find it unchanged, completely with the dead animal in the way and all its dust and dirt.

Suddenly, the door at the end of the corridor opened. Reynir started a piercing scream that everyone somehow felt the need to pick up. The figure came closer, slowly revealing a human shape. Human, male… and somehow familiar.

“Onni.” Lalli said.

“Onni?!” Tuuri yelled, running up to the shape at the end of the corridor. It really was him.

“What are you doing here?!” Tuuri panted.

“I should be asking you just that, young lady!” Onni yelled. He looked furious. “What are you all doing on someone else’s property!”

“Calm down.” Lalli said. He looked pissed. “We were just exploring.”

“You are breaking the law!” Onni bellowed. He grabbed Tuuri’s arm, which made her squeak. “We are going home, right now, and you can be glad if I am not telling mom and dad!”

“You are such a whiny pissbaby, I can’t believe you!” Tuuri spat back, ripping her arm from Onni’s grip. “We are no six year olds anymore, you can’t just tell us what to do!”

“Listen!” Onni said. “You could get arrested for this little Halloween trip, and how am I going to explain to mom and dad that _both_ of you are spending their Halloween night in a police cell!”

“Calm down. We are not getting arrested, unless you don’t stop yelling and alert the whole town.” Lalli said, sounding more and more pissed.

“Guys? Let’s just get out of here, okay?” Reynir said. “I’m done with this.”

“Finally, someone with a little bit of sense in him.” Onni grumbled, turned around and stomped back through the door he came from – the door that led into the living room.

The other’s looked at each other.

“Urgh.” Emil exclaimed. “I hate getting told off by _him_.”

“Yeah, you tell me.” Tuuri snorted. “This is going to be really fun night, I tell you.” But then, she also slipped through the door into the living room, and the others followed her.

As they entered the living room, it was just as new as they had found it the last time. Also, there was no sign of the cat, spectral or not.

“Uh, Onni?” Tuuri said as they crossed the room. “Have you seen a cat on your way to us? We saw one and got a fright.”

Onni turned around and gave Tuuri a stern look. “There are no cats here. The house was locked.” And with that, he turned back and kept walking. As they rounded the dining table and passed a cupboard that stood a little bit too far in the way, Tuuri realized something strange: Onni skilfully avoided every piece of furniture, like he had been here before. A cold sense of dread washed over her, but she decided to keep quiet.

While they all walked behind Onni through the kitchen and then through the entrance hall, still dusty and smelly, Tuuri noticed more and more things that seemed off. How did he manage to go after them this fast?

Why did he seem like he wasn’t scared at all? He was the biggest scaredy cat she knew, always had been.

And why did he seem to know his way around her perfectly? How could he be so sure that there were no cats here?

Tuuri had a hard time not shooting the others alarming looks as they left the house and walked across the dark lawn. Everyone clicked on their flash lights, and Tuuri noticed that Onni had a one, too. And not just any kind. It was a huge, heavy-looking industrial one. She had never seen this one before. This was not something you just have lying around.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked casually, pointing to it as Onni made his way across the mossy ground, sure-footed as if it was his own garden, while the other three fell a bit behind because they didn’t really want to walk with Onni.

“Bought it.” Onni said curtly.

 _You don’t really need that,_ Tuuri wanted to say. _You never walk around in the dark like this._ But she didn’t say it.

 When Onni opened the front gate of the property with an absent-minded little push, Tuuri knew something was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel?


	8. How To Be A Heartbreaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My ultimate Reynir song - Marina and the Diamonds is basically my AU Reynir's life. 
> 
> Song: How to be a heartbreaker (Marina and the diamonds)  
> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Characters/Relationships: Reynir, Reynir/Original Male Chracter, mentioned: Emil, a mysterious stranger that you totally won't recognize  
> Summary: Modern AU: Reynir likes to go out, party, and flirt.  
> Tags/Warnings: Sexual things are mentioned, but nothing is explicit. This is loosely based on my Stockholm AU which I have mapped out in my head but never written about before. It's non-canon for that AU, though. It's also my first attempt to try and get Reynir's character in this AU across.

The music boomed into Reynir’s ears as soon as he re-opened the door of the shabby restroom. Before him, once more, lay the dance floor, packed with people from ages 18 (or, let’s be honest, probably 16) to 35. He grimaced as he tried to make his way through the moving crowd, back to the place where he’d last seen Emil and the others. As he finally arrived after what felt like minutes of shoving and elbowing, they were gone. Of course, just his luck.

Reynir sighed into the warm air filled with the smell of sweat and fog machine chemicals, making his throat feel sore. He looked around – luckily, he was taller than average, so he could look over the heads of many of the patrons of the club. He let his gaze wander through the dimly-lit room. The dance floor was crowded, but if they were dancing, they’d resurface eventually. At the bar it was less full at the moment, there were even a few unoccupied stools. Reynir went over and sat down. From there, he surveyed his surroundings anew.

There were quite a few people he knew here tonight – and by “knew”, Reynir mostly meant “had fucked”. He turned around and ordered a coke, he really wasn’t feeling like drinking alcohol, now that he hast lost his group. He realized that he’d also fucked the barkeeper before, but it didn’t earn him a discount, he didn’t seem to remember. Sipping his coke, Reynir turned back to the crowd and suddenly noticed a guy leaning against a pillar a few meters away. At first, Reynir only noticed him because of his hair colour – it was so blond it seemed white in the neon lights, but in a way that fascinated him.

Next, he noticed that the guy looked really out of place. Reynir quickly assessed his luck – the guy looked lonely and like he was having a shitty night. The worst outcome he could get out of this was some decent company on his way to the subway. The best outcome, though…

“Hi!” Before Reynir had the time to think this trough any further, a guy stood in front of him. He was maybe a few years older than Reynir (which didn’t really mean that much). He had short brown hair and was quite fit, showing it off in a muscle shirt that was more so deep cut that it seemed to be more hole than fabric.

“Hi”, Reynir replied, smiling. He knew this game well, he played it constantly. With a body like his and in an outfit like he was wearing, he got approached like thrice a night at least when he was out dancing. Which was exactly what he wanted.

“How’s it going?” the guy asked. He had to speak up and lean closer to be understood, so he was more talking to Reynir’s ear than to his face.

“Just lost my friends, so” Reynir said, shrugging and flashing the guy another smile.

“Aw, that sucks. By the way I really like your hair, it looks cool.” The guy said, sounding a bit embarrassed while giving the compliment.

“Thanks!” Reynir said. This was a pretty standard conversation for an evening like this, and they both knew it. Reynir had done this a hundred times before. He knew the limited amount of possible next questions… “Wanna come with me?” The guy asked.

Reynir looked at the guy up and down. He looked handsome enough, he decided, and he was bored anyway. In the unlikely event that he met Emil in two hours, at least he wouldn’t say he just sat here idly while the others were getting themselves either drunk, laid, or both.

But he was not going to give in that easily.

“Whoa, you’re a quick one!” Reynir said, laughing. “What’s your name?”

“Vincent!” The guy answered.

“I’m Reynir!”

“Reynir?” he guy asked, trying out the sound in his mouth. That too was a familiar thing to happen. “Is that Swedish?”

“Nope, it’s Icelandic!” Reynir answered. They almost had to shout now because a group of people had come back from the dance floor and was buying drinks next to them. “What do you do?” he asked.

“I’m a gardener!” Vincent said. “You?”

“I’m a nurse!” Reynir answered.

“Oh, cool!” Vincent said, he seemed to like that idea. “Do you often wear skirts?” he asked next, his voice getting a bit provocative.

Reynir grinned. “As often as I can! You like it?” he asked. Now he was in full flirt mode.

Vincent grinned back. “Suits you, with your hair like that. You look unusual, not like everybody else!” He said.

Another group of people crowded around them. Reynir stood up, he had enough of the stupid shouting.

“Let’s go somewhere!” He said, waving Vincent after him. The other man followed on his heels.

At the coat check, he collected his marine blue overcoat, his scarf and the small purse he took with him when he went out partying. Vincent got a small, stylish backpack and a hoodie.

Together, they climbed the small staircase that led from the club back onto the street. It had snowed again recently and everything was coated in a thin layer of white that would probably freeze over in the next hours.

Vincent stood next to Reynir and blew into his hands. “Where to?” he asked.

Reynir crunched up his nose, giving Vincent a good long look in the dim light created by the club behind them, the snow and the street lights.

“There is a nice place that serves not too terrible food at this hour, like five minutes away.” He suggests to Vincent. Testing his expectations.

“Oh, you’re hungry? You don’t look like a person for carbs after 6pm.” Vincent grins.

“Usually, at this hour, I’m more the protein guy.” Reynir answered, giving him a raised eyebrow. Vincent needs a moment to take the hint, then his eyes widen and he starts laughing.

“We can walk to my place if that’s alright with you.” He suggests. Reynir can’t hide his grin.

“Sure.”

-

A week later, he is back at the same club, Emil in tow this time, with the promise not to leave Reynir’s eyesight this evening. He doesn’t see Vincent, but he wouldn’t mind if he did, thinking about their time together still gives him a pleasant shudder that wanders all the way down his spine and ends deep somewhere in his groin.

As he is about to go on the dance floor with Emil, he sees him again; the guy from last time. He is just as lonely as the week before, but he doesn’t look as grumpy this time. Reynir walks past him only a few meters away. He is a bit older, maybe at the end of his twenties. He isn’t necessarily the most beautiful, but something about him, something in his eyes, stay with Reynir the whole night.

“Did you see the guy leaning at the pillar over there? The blond one?” Reynir asks Emil two hours later as they get themselves a drink to cool off from the dancing.

“No, which one?” Emil asks, leaning into Reynir and following Reynir’s gaze with his own.

“The blond one, there!” Reynir repeats. “The one leaned against the pillar! With the black shirt?”

“The one that’s making out with the other dude?”

“No, the one that’s just leaning there? Why don’t you see him?”

“No idea?” Emil laughs, taking a sip of his beer. “Is he prettier than me, though?” he asks jokingly. Reynir grins. “As if.” He answers.

But even as they go home in the morning and the stranger has long since left the club, Reynir’s mind is still occupied with his sad, blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If we only knew who that man could be...
> 
>  
> 
> A very dear friend got me into Marina and the diamonds a few years ago. Shoutout to Manumanu, I will be forever in musical debt for all the great artists you always show me!


	9. Immortals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, finally. Writing, y'all, how do you all do it?
> 
> Song: Immortals (Fall Out Boy)  
> Rating: Teen  
> Characters/Relationships: Emil, Sigrun  
> Summary: Vampire AU!  
> Tags/Warnings: Blood and major character death, technially. But nothing too bad, you know me, I'm a softy. The vampires here work like the vampires in a peticular famous Vampire story some of you might know.

The sun was barely setting when I woke up, dressed and left my room. There were no servants around, I always ordered them to work by day and leave early. I dreaded the thought of what would happen if Sigrun ever happened to come upon one of them.

The hallway was dark when I walked along it, musing that the floorboards were likely to be cold. But I was colder, so I couldn’t feel it.

I made my way to the library and was startled when I saw a last stripe of dying light through a curtain that hadn’t been drawn over the window all the way through. I stared at the light and how it shone onto the floor, how it gleamed on the surface of the desk and even this caused my eyes to hurt, but I couldn’t stop myself. I missed it. Nearly a 150 years later, and I still missed it.

I was merely a boy when it happened, nineteen years and a few days old. It was the late 19th century, the great age of the long reign of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. England was an empire back then, and the world around me seemed to buzz with life and advancement.

I was born as the second son of a banker in Liverpool, and my life was filled with the pursuit of knowledge and the extensive dining, drinking and dancing I did with my friends. We were blissfully unaware of everything that was coming in the following century, the military was held in high-esteem.

As the second son, I was given a bit more leeway, so I was to go to university, of which there weren’t that many at the time. But someone, _something_ , call it God or Fate, wanted it otherwise. Or you can simply call it: Sigrun.

I was on my way back to my parent’s home from an exhaustive party and my private coach was rattling slowly over the cobblestone of the streets of Liverpool. It was very late in the night, soon the sun would be up again already, and I dreaded the thought of the hangover I was going to have tomorrow.  It was summer and still warm outside, and I tiredly watched the houses we passed by through the window, trying to focus on something else than the alcohol rummaging in my intestines. 

I must have fallen half-asleep midway, because I woke up with a start when our coach suddenly rumbled heavily and took an abrupt turn sideways. I remember my first thought to be: “Oh, is George _that_ drunk?!” because I was led to believe that our coachman and maybe had been falling sleep on the box. But I was immediately forced to correct my assumption when the coach first came to a roll-out, and then the door flew open. In the doorframe stood a human shape, merely a shadow against the dim light outside.

“Good evening, Emil.” The shape said with the voice of a woman and the unfailing confidence I would become so used to later.  “Are you ready?”

“Who- who are you? What happened to my coachman?” I stammered out. What a fool I was, in retrospect, to expect her to answer any of my questions! She wasted no time, she was like a force of nature, a deadly hurricane of red hair and cold skin. In the matter of a second, she was upon me, hugging me tight and burying her teeth in the flesh of my neck. At first, I wanted to scream and resist, but soon I grew tired and still, accepting of it. Only her heartbeat and mine were left in this world, I could feel her heart beating stronger with every beat that mine grew weaker and weaker. Then, panic befell me – was I dying? Was this the end?

“Silly thing!” The woman said and finally let go of me. I slumped back and was threatening to fall off the seat completely. It was as if there were no bones left in me to keep me upright. Through half-closed eyes, I watched the red-haired woman use her own teeth to open a wound on her wrist until blood, blackened by the darkness, dripped from her arm.

“Drink.” She ordered me. Tired and helpless, I turned my head away.

“Drink!” she said again, and this time, she pressed her wrist to my mouth.

The first drop was the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted, tangy, metallic and too-thick in my mouth, the second was as bad as eating your least favourite dish, the third one was delicious, the fourth was pure heaven. Soon, I was hanging on her wrist as my last lifeline, sucking and sucking and sucking.

“Good.” The woman said, watching me with contempt. Much too quick, she pulled away, and I almost cried because of the cruelty of it. I wanted more, so much _more_!

“My name is Sigrun, and you’re dying now. See you in twelve hours, Emil.” And with that, she was gone.

The next day was the worst day of my life – and also my last. As I came home, I was already too sick to walk, I crawled up the stairs, crying for help until a servant found me. They brought me to bed, and there I lay, my whole body engulfed in invisible flames, burning through my veins, and every second felt like my last. In these hours, three different doctors where brought to me, I remember how my mother and my sister barely left my bed and how my father rushed in after work, crying for his son, who was growing colder by the minute. I cried, too, because I didn’t understand, I understood so little on that day, and I thought that soon, they would have to bury me, me, young and beautiful and talented, and I cried for all the time I wasted on drinking instead of… yeah, instead of what? As I lay there, cramping and shitting myself, I couldn’t find the answer.

As the sun shone red through my window, I knew that it would soon be over. I could feel my heartbeat slow down and my blood run cold. My sister was crying by my bedside, and then she left, and a priest came back in her stead. He didn’t even have time to ask me to confess my sins before he was violently drop-kicked to the floor by a huge woman with short, red hair.

Sigrun was there, she had come back. I wanted to talk to her, reach up and ask her what this all meant, but my consciousness was slipping. The next thing I remember is my mouth on her wrist, sucking in her blood vigorously until she pulled away. When she did, I cried in pain, but when I reached up to wipe away the tears, my hands came back red.

“What- what happened?” I asked. I rose from my bed, the sheets and cushions drenched in red blood that seemed to glow in the last light of dusk outside.

“Look long and well, little warrior.” The woman named Sigrun said. “It’s the last one you’ll ever see.” When I turned my head to look at her, I saw that she was standing in the shadows, well away from the windows, and watched my face with a weird, sad fondness.

And so I watched the sun sink below the rooftops of the houses around me, and when the last light fled from my room, Sigrun’s queer sadness had me as well. I turned around to her and for the first time, I could see her proper: She was a bit taller than me, of square built in both face and body, and looked like she was maybe a good ten, fifteen years older than me. Her clothing was strange: Not only did she wear man’s clothes, but both breeches and shirt had been out of fashion for quite a while, say, a hundred years or two, but her boots were brand-new and of shiny leather. On her side, she had a sword strapped through her belt, as if guns had never been invented. When she saw that I was looking, she laughed at me and bared a row of gleaming white teeth – and two fangs.

“What’s up, little warrior? Are those eyes already working?” she asked. I wanted to ask what she was talking about, until I realized it myself – even though the room was rapidly darkening, I could still see everything perfectly fine. I turned my head to my bookshelf on the other side of my room, and realized that I could read the titles as perfectly as if they were right before me, even the only that stood upside down. I gasped, and Sigrun laughed even more.

“I’ll take that as yes.”

Finally, I managed to speak to her. “What happened to me? What did you do?”

 “You still haven’t gotten it?” she asked back. She looked at me as if I were stupid. She waited a few seconds to prove her point and then sighed.

“I killed you – and gave you eternal life right after.” She said. “I robbed you off your power to age, to fuck and to eat – but I gave you powers a thousand times better.” She grinned.

“And most best of all, I gave myself a companion to while away the centuries!”

“Are you… a demon?” I asked. I had never considered myself a strictly religious man, but that was before a blood drinking super-human harpy had entered my life.

She grinned. “Better than that. I’m a vampire, little warrior, and so are you.”

A vampire. I read novels about those. I stood up, stepped over the dead priest and walked towards my mirror. In it, I saw a young man with dishevelled blond hair, pale, perfect skin and blood-shot eyes.

“But I can see myself!” I said to Sigrun, but in the moment that I turned to her, she was already right behind me, looking at her own reflection the mirror. Through it, she gave me a pitiful look.

“Mortals have a lot of weird ideas about vampires, believe me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, some of them are true, but this one is not.” She waved at her reflection and it obediently waved back, just like they were supposed to do.

“What is true, then?” asked. “Can you turn into a bat? Can I turn into a bat? Will garlic kill me?”

Sigrun smiled and shook her head.

“Come, my warrior.” She said, and it sounded soft this time. She reached out and took me by the hand and lead me to the window.

“I’ll show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fall Out Boy. One of those bands I got from that one guy who I get all my bands from.


End file.
